The Secret Lives of Two People in Mayfair

Below is an email I sent The Yankeedoodle yesterday. There is a character in it, called M, who I haven't officially written about before, but my Post-box is full of unfinished drafts about him, and him and I, and the strange, slow, story thats been developing since we met.

For whatever reason, I just haven't been able to finish even one post about him. All you need to know is this; I met him in October, we work together, we smoke together, we spent a small, but warm time together over Christmas, and until now there's been nothing really real to write about him.


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March 2010 13:15

From: Wednesday's Child
To: The Yankeedoodle
Subject: The Secret Lives of Two People In Mayfair, Part One.

Yankeedoodle, my life is ridiculous!!!!!

Ok so I'm going to launch into the weekend I've just had, because, well I bloody have to tell someone, and obviously it's got to be you!! (You lucky girl, you!)

Deep breath, here goes..

Ok so Friday I spent the entire day in agony, taking so much codeine it's not even funny, which didn't even dull the pain the tiniest bit, ended up in A&E from 1am til about 6am Saturday, at which point I went to emergency dental hospital, then my own dentist, and got shoved full of every painkiller under the sun, codeine, morphine, morphine drip, you name it - I had it! Anyway, got home Saturday afternoon (about 3pm) and slept til around 7, was supposed to go out with Charolastra No.1, but cancelled obviously, due to inability to move or function - then I get a text, at around 8pm, from M (from work, the guy from work) saying "Fancy a drink?" and I immediately text back "Yes. Give me an hour and I'm there" but slightly less pathetically sounding than that obviously! So I jump in the shower, don't give myself enough time to think "errrrr what the fuck do you think you're doing..?" - he's never texted me before. And we've never ever met up out of work. I've fantasised about us going for a drink, but - well, we work together. Plus, he has a girlfriend, and his own life - why would he want to come out with me..? So he may not ever ask me again!

Anyway, 9pm I find myself in a bar on Centre Point with M, alone. He's drunk, and I'm high on morphine. It was bizarre, we've spent so much time along together in the office chatting, and on our little fag breaks, but had always had the sort of safety that the backdrop of 'being at work' provides. And suddenly we're both very aware that we're dressed like we do out of work (we matched actually, both in very cool black and white, looking a bit rock and roll) - so we proceed to get drunk, and I swear we chatted for like 5 hours straight, just me and him at a little table in a bar, our faces getting closer and closer together til the last hour when we sat chatting with our faces literally no more than an inch or 2 apart. It was amazing, we talked and laughed about anything and everything, not even flirting, but eventually we address the me and him thing. He says something about our time together over Christmas, and I joke that he knows nothing about who I am, and he proceeds to think out loud about what he sees of me "I would say Wednesday’s Girl is.. an independant moderm day type of woman.. Intelligent. Very intelligent.. Had an interesting upbringing.. Openminded. Openminded about sex.. Interested in literature and ideas.. isn't sure what's coming next in life"..

Anyway, it's like this massive weight has fallen from me, because I didn't make it all up, all those times we spent together over Christmas, it's not that I read too much into things, or it meant more to me, he felt it as well! Victory! We do have a connection - I didn't make it up!!

Anyway, we bump into some friends of his, and we dance together, and it's funny and friendly, but late on in the night in the early hours of the morning we end up in this booth, just the 2 of us, sitting leaning towards each other as we have been all night - but it's different, quieter. We both fall silent and look into the distance a bit, in our own little world, and he moves his head slightly so that our cheekbones are touching. And I swear, just that little bit of skin on skin contact sends lovely warm tingles down my spine, and I let my eyes meet his, and we just stare at each other for, well for like 5 seconds, but it seemed like forever. (Blugh, I know how ridiculously twee I'm sounding, but it's true!)

So yeah, I glance away and he says in a tone of voice I've never heard him use before "Look, you know, right..?"

It's like any time we've ever spent together has been leading up to this. I say "I know" softly. And I do, honestly I know everything he's considering saying, feeling..

He's silent for a moment and I feel it coming. "I have a girlfriend."

The music is pounding, and theres people dancing and rushing around us, but it's like a movie, it's like everything is in slow motion and we're in our own little world.

"I know" I say, neither of us looking at each other, but with our faces still lightly touching. "I like her."

I feel his breath on my cheek. "Maybe in another time.."

I smile sadly and reply, "I don't believe in fate."

We sit in silence for a little while and I pull away, take a deep breath and make a joke about getting a round of shots in, and he laughs. And we slide back into our little routine of I'm funny - you're funny - lets smoke. It's like it never happened.

I swear, Yankeedoodle, it was that freaking epic! I always talk about how life isn't a bloody movie, people who think that it is are stupid, it's the small seemingly meaningless moments that have the real substance, there's never yknow, the backdrop of violins and mood music, real life is boring. But I swear, it was like a freaking Baz Luhrmann movie!

Anyway, so we carry on drinking and chatting til close, when we stumble arm in arm into a cab and listen to his ipod in the back seat (Smashing Pumpkins are always going to remind me of that cab ride), and I drop him at his house (in bloody Stratford no less, cost me 40 quid that cab did!) and get home, entirely fucked off my face. He texts me in the morning, hungover as hell, apologising for being so drunk, and having a little dig at me stopping the cab to take a quick piss in an alleyway ("Yes M, I took a piss in an alleyway. I'm just that kind of girl!")

So come work on Monday, I'm feeling a little weird but quietly pleased with myself cos I loved Saturday night, and I can't help but feel a bit vindicated that he does actually feel something for me, if just a little something! But I can't quite shake the self-doubt that actually I've ruined the allure of being the girl at work - I'm a real person now. Which is never as exciting.

I then get a text from him on Monday evening, while I'm sitting in bed watching Dark Angel in my pjamas - 'Any chance you're in town? Fancy a drink?' and I reply I'd love to but I can't, just taken my antibiotics for my teeth - he says he's out with some friends, but can't help but wish that I was there, and that Saturday night was the best time he'd had in a long time. I say it was for me too, and that I'll see him tomorrow at work (I'm secretly massively touched that he's telling me this). I then get a text from him at around 10pm saying "Just got home. So what are we doing next time?" and I think yay! there's going to be a next time! and reply "Well I think eating is a good place to start. Where we finish is up to you. x" - which I instantly regret and think ah crap, I've gone a bit too far, and shattered our lovely little pretence that we're just friends, so he's going to think I'm pushing for something more, blah blah blah - basically I panic that I've overstepped the mark and ruined our little game.

I get a text back half an hour later just saying "Dinner tomorrow?" and I swear, my heart is racing. It's ridiculous, but I think oh my god, are we actually going to step it up? Maybe we'll have an adult affair, maybe we'll become really close friends who never get together but secretly fall in love, maybe I'm the girl thats incredible enough for him to cheat on his girlfriend with, maybe we'll actually, finally, kiss...

Then I think shit, actually, he's drunk. And carried away with the afterglow of our Saturday night. He's going to regret sending that text in the morning. So I text him back "I'll give you until midday tomorrow to change your mind. If not, I finish at 6. x" and he texted back "Good so do I. I'll take you for cocktails at 6 then, dinner at 7. "

So I spend the entire morning freaking out about what to wear, and getting annoyed at myself for panicking, it's just M, we're just having dinner, he's seen you a million times in every shitty/amazing work outfit you own! So I put on a lovely understated work dress from Zara, cream, perfectly fitted, brown leather belt (makes me look a bit like Dr Quinn Medicine Woman, but whatever) and go to work feeling pretty good, nervous but a little excited at the possibility. I spend the entire morning redecorating the upstairs bar with Miles (new guy I'm working with - whooole different tale) and keep glancing at the door for M to arrive, and at just before Midday I'm standing next to Miles, looking at a candle/flower display we've just made, deliberating over whether it works or not, and I hear him saying 'morning' to the barstaff, then he comes over and says 'morning' to me and Miles, we swap a little conspiratory glance, and while Miles is wittering on about the fucking flowers, M just says to me quietly, "I broke up with my girlfriend".

I swear, I've never been so lost for words! I just sort of stuttered an "Oh shit, M.. I'm so sorry" whilst not fully being able to hide the fact that I was finding it quite hard to breathe!

Anyway, we go for a cigarette immediately and actually, he is a state. He's hungover, a little dejected, and looking generally like he's going to throw up. We talk it through a little, I ask what the hell happened, and he basically says Saturday night he had such a good time, and he got the silent treatment from her the next day, then he went out with his best mate last night, and got back and got the silent treatment from her again, and he just was sick of it, of the boredom - he said they love each other but there's just no passion, and that he wants to feel his heart race again, he'd forgotten how that felt (glances at me quickly) and Saturday reminded him essentially of how life could be.. They've been together for 4 years, and they've been comfortable, but not really happy for the last 2 years..

Anyway, I spend the day in the office worrying about him, and waiting to get off work so we can go for our drink ("Just a quick one, if you're still up for it..") and suddenly it's all about being his friend, and supporting him through a breakup, and putting aside our little game which suddenly seems so unimportant and pathetic. So we go for a drink at the pub down the road, and I swear, I've never seen him so dejected. But we talk it through, and we have a few glasses of wine, and I tell him straight that he needs to stick to his guns, and yes he doesn't want to hurt her, but one of them had to be courageous and bite the bullet, or they'd waste their 20s, and then their 30s, being together out of kindness and comfort.

Anyway, blah blah blah, analysing the situation, supportive words and a bottle of wine later he eventually perks up and we end up staying there til 10pm, chatting about his past and my past, and sci-fi, and the Victorian ages, and all sorts, being deep and meaningful whilst still cracking jokes - and neither of us want to go home. But I pull us out of it and say look, you need to go home and wait for your girlfriend (ex?) to get back from work so you can talk it through, and have the big painful breakup conversation. "God I hope she doesn't cry" he says, and admits there's a real danger that if she cries, he'll just say let's give it another shot, because he doesn't want her to be hurt. And I try and impress upon him that he can't do that, it's not fair to either of them. Look, please don't get back with her, I plead, and hope it was convincing enough that I meant it as a friend.

Anyway, we part at Green Park station, and swap a little sexy look while we kiss goodbye (on the cheek..) and I spend the entire tube journey home wondering if I actually have gotten myself in a bit too deep. It's nothing to do with me, really, there's a sad, adult situation - a relationship is dying, and he's having to put it out of it's misery. And what then? For me, I mean, thinking totally selfishly - I may eternally be the Other Girl, but I sure as hell ain't no rebound, let me tell you!
Plus, Jesus, it's only M! Grumpy, abrasive, judgemental, not the most attractive, possibly repressed with a drink problem, M. Out of all the men I know, he is the most unlikely. In so many ways.

But he makes me laugh. And honestly Yankeedoodle, when he stands just that little bit too close to me, smelling faintly of Diesel and cigarettes, I get a little dizzy. How do you fight that..?

Aaaargh, anyway so here we are, finally at the end of my insanely overly detailed story (I'm so sorry, I just had to let it all out, and you seem to be bearing the brunt of my emotional rantage!!)

What a ride, huh!

So here I sit, on a Wednesday morning, alone in my little office, drinking my coffee and listening to Sade's By Your Side (gotta love the bar music policy of "chillout tunes" which when you're hungover and emotionally spun around at 10:30 in the morning, make you want to kill yourself!) Plus, M gets in at 5 today - and I swear, I've never dreaded him coming in to work before, it's an entirely new feeling, but a massive part of me feels like he's going to walk in and tell me they're back together. And I'm going to feel like a twat. A Massive, Emotionally Subnormal, Inappropriate Twat.

Mangoes and pineapples, mate. Mangoes and fucking pineapples.

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From: The Yankeedoodle
To: Wednesday's Child
Subject: Re: The Story of Two People In Mayfair, Part One

Oh. My. God. This is quite possibly the best, craziest, emotion inducing (for something that doesn’t directly affect me) email I have ever received.

Hot Damn. We need to get together to debrief on this- email just won’t do it.

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